1 min read
I don't think I've ever read a word by Andrew Gilligan with which I didn't disagree, so blow we down - he has a little piece in today's Standard which is, as any sane person will agree, bang on:
A similar schism exists over Richard Curtis. As he produces his latest horror, The Boat That Rocked, the nation is at war between those who venerate the Father Of Feelgood and those like me who find that watching his films makes us feel ill. Curtis was once a great comedy writer; his and Ben Elton's Blackadder Goes Forth was one of the funniest, truest and most poignant things ever seen on British TV. What a tragedy to see his descent to this lame schmaltz.
Quite. Even the thought of his cringe-making films makes me nauseous.